


Someone to stand beside

by ravenpuff1956



Series: It's complicated [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Feels, Light Angst, but as usual we'll get there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 08:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16950576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenpuff1956/pseuds/ravenpuff1956
Summary: Newt can only hear about Tina through letters from Jacob, and they do not bring good tidings. This on top of his overly attentive assistant and an old 'friend', trying his nerves... will he ever find peace in his love life?





	Someone to stand beside

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of 'Love and other complicated things' yay!  
> Well it will be. The next few chapters will be in Newt's pov about events already happened, and then I'll continue on.  
> I wanted to write these scenes again from Newt's perspective because I always planned to add Leta in properly but never got around to it, so here's my chance to do so.  
> You don't need to read my previous story to read this, but it might help.  
> Hope everyone enjoys!

Dear Newt,

Don’t worry about me. Queenie is the love of my life, I know she would never mean to hurt me. She’s the sweetest soul on earth. She just gets incredibly passionate about the things she cares about. No matter what she does, I consider myself so thankful to be one of the things she cares about.  
To answer your concerns about my bakery- don’t worry sales are still going strong. Although I have fired my old assistant, and hired one who knows to preheat the oven before the working day starts.  
Finally, and for the last time; No I don’t know if Tina’s actually seeing that ‘bally auror fellow’ as you so 'nicely' put it. Queenie is insisting on being extremely vague about the matter, although she did say that he definitely likes her. Pal, I don’t understand why you can’t just ask her yourself? Just because she didn’t write you back, doesn’t mean you can’t write again. She definitely liked you back in New York, I know she did. What have you got to lose? I wish you the best of luck, in any case.

Jacob.

P.S Just before sending this letter, Queenie burst into my apartment all in a tizzy. Apparently all three of us are going to be in your neck of the woods soon. I don’t know what she means, but if it’s true, hope to see you soon!

Newt rubs the back of his neck in delighted confusion. All three of them? Coming to Europe? To England? He pats his owl, Arnold, on the head thankfully, hastily re-reading the letter again just to make sure. Yes, it certainly seems that way. He throws the letter haphazardly on his desk, standing in a happy daze, picking up the wrong buckets to begin the feedings (Bunty is thankfully late this morning, and doesn’t see this misdemeanour). 

To think in a few weeks or perhaps days he will have his American friends around him again. Queenie making them some sort of stew at the stove, Jacob cracking jokes by his side and Tina. Tina joining him in his hospital, hand and hand with Dougal. Tina sitting on his couch, drinking cocoa out of his mug. Tina challenging him to a lively debate, her dark eyes flashing. Tina’s beautiful smile when she tells him that she hates all confident handsome American’s, especially a certain Mr Tolliver and instead prefers lanky, eccentric magizoologists. Actually no, Tina’s beautiful smile when he finally gets to fulfil his promise, biting her bottom lip adorably, just like she did at the docks when he said goodbye. 

While cheerfully making his way through his work, Newt finds himself constantly passing beside his case, where in his case her photograph smiles up at him. He stares at it fondly, and often. His brother had started sending him American newspapers, sarcastically, every week after his coming back from New York. Something about ‘letting you keeping track of our American cousins rebuilding the mess you made,’. He’d stopped reading them after his book had been published, seeing one too many absurd lies about himself. However, at first he actually did, hoping to catch a glance of familiar places or people. He remembers absentmindedly flicking through one issue on a lazy Sunday morning when suddenly…there she was.

Newt admits he didn’t really like Tina at first. She was an annoying curiosity in an alien environment. A brash, rule-abiding, American version of Theseus, getting in his way, mucking up his plans and showing a complete lack of interest in his creatures. However still he stayed, and he watched and was pleasantly surprised with what he found. Her apparent harsh exterior was covering, a shy, sad interior, much like his own awkward exterior hides his. Then, they were sentenced to death and he found that Tina was perhaps the most caring person he’d ever met in his life. Sacrificing her job- her life- all to save a desperate boy she’d never met. And wondrously he saw her compassionate nature grow to fit his creatures as well. 

Newt’s heart filled thinking back to the gentle way she deposited the occamy back to its nest, her fascinated features as she watched Frank fly away. Tina had spent hours down in his case after Jacob ‘left’. Following him shyly, asking tentative questions. (Her sister did not. It didn’t escape his notice that the one and only time Queenie entered his case, she barely stepped out of his creature-less hut). 

He'd obviously changed her, but she’d also changed him. Newt had learnt that those he first judges indifferent to beasts, can be taught different. That his manuscript would speak to those who perhaps once wouldn’t have given two hoots about creatures. Tina had taught him that he could make a difference, change peoples minds. And he’d never be able to tell her how much it meant to him. And although he’d only known her a week it, that was time enough to have her burned to his skin. 

So almost involuntarily, he’d carefully ripped out the picture, placing her in a spot of honour. Not hidden away, to be looked at guiltily in moments of weakness, but in plain view. Where she could be easily seen and treasured by him. 

“Perhaps if you’re coming, you’ll have to write to me again,” Newt thinks out loud, hopefully to the picture. If he squints very hard, photograph Tina almost nods. She certainly smiles at least. She’d hadn’t written him back after his last letter, to Newt’s sad befuddlement. That was almost two months ago now. He still hasn’t worked up the courage to ask why. He’s not sure he wants to hear the answer.

He'd tore up the letter when he received it, and fed it to his kelpie. But Jacob’s words are still imbedded on his brain. ‘Queenie says Tina’s seeing an American auror. He’s called Achilles’ Tolliver and is apparently the bee’s knees. Invited himself over for dinner the other night, so Queenie and I couldn’t go to the pictures’. 

Newt imagines it sometimes, just to torture himself. A tall, dark, confident gentlemen with southern manners. Discussing cases with her, teasing her, kissing her pearly cheek. In his worst nightmares there’s a shiny ring on her finger, another man’s arm around her waist and Newt has to pretend to act pleased, all while clenching his fists behind his back to prevent himself setting his nundu on the lucky man’s smarmy face. Mr Tolliver probably has the ability to sweep any girl off his feet and he had to and pick his? Wait…his?

“Whoa there Newt, she’s not yours, she’s not anybody’s,” he chastises himself sternly. Dougal is staring at him like he’s crazy. He most likely is, he just tried to feed the demiguise mooncalf pellets.

“Newt! Newt!” an out of breath voice calls from above, “sorry I’m late,” Bunty chirps, pulling off her coat.

“Bunty, good morning,” Newt says tiredly, finally having gotten everyone’s food in the right bowels. 

“Sorry I’m late,” she blinks her blue eyes up at him, eyelashes fluttering. Newt presses past her to re-work their itineraries for the day.

“No worries, you stayed back way too late last night anyway,” he ignores Bunty’s pout. Newt has no clue why his assistant deems every last task, one that should be done together. ‘Tina would understand’ he thinks knowingly, ‘Tina also likes her space’. 

The pair walk briskly, checking each and every creature, the first set of rounds. Every now and again Bunty steps on his heels. 

“George, Pat, and Charlie?” “Yes Newt,”  
“Elsie?” “Yes Newt,”  
“Baby nifflers?” “Oh Merlin!”

Newt turns at her alarmed tone, and finds his assistant unusually pale, one hand slapped up to her forehead. 

“Einstein stole into my pocket last night, and I accidently brought him home!” Bunty exclaims.

“Good God,” Newt chuckles under his breath. He remembers Maud from his Hogwarts days, always covered in shiny gold, “how’d that go?”

“Actually, not too bad,” Bunty says, reminiscing, her face morphing into a slight squint, “we got a new lodger last night, and she was very helpful,”

“Really,” Newt says uninterested. 

“Yes! Even knew to tickle his belly, he’d stolen one of Maud’s famous necklaces,”

“Really?” Newt asks, attention caught. He can’t remember going into that much detail in his book.

“He’s probably with her,” Bunty says relieved, poking bits of carrot into the remaining nifflers cage, “he really seemed to like her you know, burrowed into her hair and everything,” 

Bunty pleased again, totters off to their next station. Newt however is still intrigued. Niffers aren’t usually so attached to someone they’ve just met. Perhaps with someone with a familiar smell…but why would a stranger be familiar to Einstein? 

“Bunty, who was this witch?” he asks interested. 

Her answer is interrupted by a crash, and a crack, then a red, steaming envelope comes hurtling down the stairs. Before Newt even has a chance to grab it however, the howler explodes.

“Newt! Ministry now! Urgent business!” his brothers voice screams at him. He rolls his eyes, but still gathers his case together. He’s ignored Theseus’s summons before and it didn’t end well. 

“You can stay here alone for a bit, can’t you Bunty?” Newt calls over his shoulder. 

“Yes of course! Anything!” she simpers, “but wouldn’t you like me to-“

Newt apparates. 

\---------

The ‘urgent business’ his brother so intensely yelled at him turns out to be news Newt already knew. 1. That the ministry is watching him, and 2. Theseus is going on a raid or something tonight. In other words, Theseus brought him all they way to the ministry to give him a hug and say goodbye. 

“Some days” he thinks angrily, stalking about his office, “I really hate my brother,”

He first attempted to stay in the normally comfortable atmosphere of his case, but little things he usually wouldn’t give mind to, kept agitating him. The niffler stealing his pocket watch for the third time today. Dougal’s autocratic brow, which reminds him a little too much of Theseus’s scowl.  
So instead he’s attempting to read his department’s creature reports (apparently a basilisk has been spotted in Rio of all places). He desperately would like to rip them all up into shreds and go home, but dreads Theseus’s condescending speech about ‘running away’. So Newt forces himself to stay put, silently seething. 

He’s just about to pour himself a second cup of tea, when his ears prick up at the quiet rustles of something sliding under his door. It’s a note, in a sickening familiar hand. In the motion of picking it up, the scent of expensive perfume hits his nose. Although strangely it also seems to smell slightly of lavender (It’s a familiar scent, but from where?). 

Scanning the note quickly, he pauses at the end. Unable to prevent himself from reading, then re-reading, finally he crunches the paper into a ball. Grinding his teeth, he kicks his desk, revelling in the sharp pain that radiates through his big toe. ‘Love Leta’. For merlin’s sake. 

Poking his head out through the door, attempting to catch his old school friend. But to his surprise she’s not where to be found. Even his secretary (who, because of Newt’s long absences from his office, never really has anything to do) is missing. He thinks he may catch her dragging a dark haired witch through the office, but it’s too late and her mousy brown hair whips out of sight. 

“Bugger, bugger, bugger,” he mutters angrily, sweeping up his case and marching angrily down to room where to the various departments office secretaries congregate for tea, scones and gossip. 

There she is. Laughing, smiling. His grandmothers ring sitting on her finger. Leta Lestrange. She sees lingering awkwardly by the door, and her eyes sparkle as she excuses herself from her friends to meet him. When he was seventeen, he would’ve dreamed seeing her like this. So happy to see him, greeting him with a soft hand on his forearm. Now it just makes him a bit sick, and confused. She makes him confused. And it doesn’t intrigue him like it used to do. Now it just makes him tired. 

“Newt,” she says, smiling brightly, “have you come to accept my offer then?” 

“Not exactly,” he begins, and her smile falls. He avoids her prying brown eyes, looking at her ankle, hitting his case against his leg anxiously. ‘Her eyes aren’t nearly as dark as Tina’s,’ he thinks, biting the inside of his cheek, ‘they don’t have the same flame. Tina’s eyes are clear. Leta’s eyes are murky’. He waits for Leta to speak, but she refuses, and he sighs. 

“Leta, I’m sorry, but I just can’t,” he apologises, begging her to understand. She doesn’t. 

“I don’t see why,” she snaps a bit too loud, and Newt sees other ladies heads lean in closer, obviously hoping to catch titbits of their conversation. Leta rolls her eyes and ushers them outside. 

“I don’t see why,” she says again. They’re now alone in an empty corridor, “we used to be such good friends, friends catch up with each other,”

“Friends,” he gives a huff of a laugh, shaking his head. She shoots him a sharp look, but it soon melts away leaving a charming smile behind. 

“We have to get past this, Newt,” she takes his hand. Newt bites the inside of his cheek feeling uncomfortable shivers crawl up his spine. He wishes he could crawl up in a ball like Pickett currently is in his pocket. Leta seems to take his stoic state as acceptance, “come on, you can tell me all about your book,” he stares at her incredulously. I did though Leta. All through fifth, sixth and seventh year. And then you used that knowledge to hurt another person, however how much of an accident it was. 

He rips his hand out of her own, ignoring her hurt features, and taking a step back. 

“No I don’t think so,” he says, wishing his voice wasn’t shaking so bad.

“Please? Honky does a great roast,” she tries again, although keeping her distance. He doesn’t notice how her smile is a little wonky, “come on Newt, it’ll be just like those days in the library. Remember how we’d always use to meet in the stacks?” 

He does remember. Newt remembers waiting, surrounded by books, and writing hours and hours of notes, waiting patiently for her to turn up. Looking up pathetically every time the clip-clop of high-heeled shoes walked passed, every time there was a flicker of a Slytherin tie. She’d turn up late at breakfast next morning, sliding in next to him with a peck on his cheek, her face flushed, with an excuse and a story. ‘Those Gryffindor girls’ or ‘lost track of time’ or ‘sorry, I just needed some time alone’. Or sometimes she’d pretend she was there after all, holding his hand, legs dangled over his lap. Newt always agreed. He always, always agreed. He so desperately wanted it to be true, it was just the easiest thing to do.  
‘She’d turn up next time,’ he told himself, as she bounced in front him, while they were walking to class. ‘Perhaps if I’m better. If I be better for her, she’ll turn up,’. And so he tried. He gave her presents, his time, his heart. And she gave some back…some, some, some. He felt like a sponge being squeezed, most days. Tight, on edge, a piece of string being stretched thin.  
Then finally, he took a fall for her, a gallant sacrifice he thought was going to be properly rewarded. And it was, for a time. A quick desperate kiss before being taken to the train. They’d write. They’d never forget each other.  
He wrote. She sent a picture, he put it in his case. He wrote some more. She sent a short postcard, now lost to the tests of time. He returned from the war, asks hopefully around. But she did nothing. So he left and didn’t hear or see again her for nine years. Until the fateful day he saw her dangling off his brother’s arm.  
He loved her and she loved him. But sometimes that's not enough.

“No actually, I don’t remember that,” he says simply, and her face falls. He can’t find it in him to care. If she cares, truly cares now, how can she still lie to him so easily? 

Tina can’t lie. Newt doesn’t know if she even knows how. She’s an open, open person. She’d rather show her frustration, be angry, be seen as harsh and brash, than hide her true feelings. They them to rush over him like waves, letting him understand, never leaving him behind. If she’s happy she’s happy, if sad she’s sad. And Merlin Tina may be frustrating sometimes, her fiery passion always close to the surface, but she’s true and just. She’s perfect. Perfect for him. He doesn’t want to be left behind anymore, feeling as if he’s constantly waiting on someone’s beck and call. Newt wants someone he can stand beside and someone willing to stand beside him. 

“Goodbye Leta,” he says softly walking away. He doesn’t look back. And he goes home to his creatures.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think?


End file.
